Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her down on her knees before me. I saw myself cupping her face in my hands, but it was like a distant memory. I didn’t actually remember doing it. I didn’t know why I’d do it. It felt like it had happened so long ago that I began to question whether it really happened or if it was all just a dream. The drunken haze was just thin enough to see through, but the images on the other side were distorted and without explanation.
After Sasha threw her dart and her friends cheered, she turned and made eye contact with me. She bit her lower lip, and her cheeks turned a familiar shade of pink. Was she embarrassed by her friends’ cheering or by knowing that I was watching?
One of the guys threw his arm around her shoulders and led her back to the table, reaching for a glass that he shoved into her hand. The whole group drank to her win. Everyone but her, that was. She kept her eyes glued to mine, and I could see all the questions as they bubbled to the surface. I knew she was probably confused by the way I was watching her. Fuck, I was confused by the way I couldn’t take my eyes off her too.
Keeping her gaze locked with mine, she moved the glass to her lips. It hadn’t even touched them when she pulled it away, timing the rest of the group, making them think she took a drink with them. I wondered if she didn’t drink because I was there or if she just wasn’t much on drinking. I didn’t like the thought of her drinking. She was too good, too innocent, too… pure.
I didn’t like the way that guy was looking at her either, like she was something sweet he wanted to devour. Was it what I was feeling because I felt protective of my wife’s little sister, or was it something else?
What else could it be?
The answer to that worried me.
I positioned myself so my back was to her, not giving myself the chance to look at her again. I kept my head down, and I finished my beer. Then I made a quick exit, as I’d promised myself I would, to the boos of my friends.
Back at the house, I stripped down to my boxers and crawled into bed. Rolling to my side, I pulled the pillow around me, giving me something to hold onto. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, welcoming sleep.
But just because I welcomed it didn’t mean that it came for me. In fact, the opposite happened. I lay awake, wondering what she was doing, who she was doing it with, and when she’d be home. I guess I managed to drift off in all my worrying, because I jolted awake when I heard the sound of the front door closing. Her footsteps sounded out as she moved deeper into the penthouse, and then I finally listened to the click of her bedroom door shutting. She was home safe.
I breathed a sigh of relief and rolled over, falling asleep.
I avoidedher as much as I possibly could over the next couple of weeks. Seeing her only made me think about things that I didn’t want to think about, so I would either come in after she was in bed for the night and I’d leave before she woke up the next day, or I’d stay at my place in the city.
My city apartment was closer to the office, within walking distance for those instances that I managed to get too hammered to drive anywhere. There was a nice little restaurant right around the corner that served three meals a day and cocktails. I could literally go from my apartment to work, getting mealsand hammered in between, and I didn’t have anything to worry about.
It also made it easier when I wanted to bring someone home. After work, I stopped at my favorite little restaurant and had dinner alone, enjoying one too many drinks. My waitress was an older lady with blonde hair, but the waitress working the section next to mine was easy on the eyes, and she kept looking my way.
She was short, with her dark hair pulled up into a sleek bun. Her uniform did nothing to hint at her shape—black pants, white dress shirt, and tie—but I knew she had more than enough to work with. Every time she’d see me watching, she’d smile and bat her lashes. Her cheeks would turn pink, and she’d bite her lower lip, playing coy and innocent. She reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t figure out who.
I was like a moth drawn to a flame, a monster stalking its innocent prey. She may have been my prey, but she wasn’t running away in fear. She was like Little Red Riding Hood, inviting the big bad wolf in.
After finishing my meal and paying my tab, I looked around the restaurant for her, but she was nowhere to be seen. I lingered a little longer than necessary by using the restroom and washing my hands. When I exited, I still couldn’t find her. I gave up and stepped out to the sidewalk, ready to make the walk to my city apartment, thinking it was probably for the best anyway, but the moment I rounded the building, she was standing before me.
“I have one hour. We’ll have to stay close.” Her words were soft but firm. Confident. I liked that.
“I don’t live far,” I said, taking her hand.
Within minutes, I was opening the front door of my empty apartment. “Want a drink or anything?”
She turned before me, her hands moving to cup my face.
“No time.” She smashed her mouth to mine.
I carried her through to my bedroom, both of us in a rush and pulling clothes off as we went. By the time I was laying her down on my bed, we had both lost everything but our underwear. I dragged my fingers between her soft lips, finding her soaked with arousal. I thrust two fingers deep inside, and her back arched as a soft moan left her lips.
“Don’t waste time by teasing me.”
I was quick to pull my hand away and grab a condom. A moment later, I was thrusting my aching cock inside her tight little body. My eyes closed as my head fell back. In my mind, I didn’t see the waitress. I saw someone I should have never allowed myself to think about. It clicked then. Why the waitress reminded me of someone. It was her dark hair, the innocent look in her eye, the way she bit her lower lip and blushed. She reminded me of my wife’s little sister, my daughter’s nanny. She reminded me of Sasha.
And instead of gagging in disgust like you’d think I’d want to, it made my cock stiffen as I fucked her as hard as I possibly could.
Fucking Sasha was wrong, but thinking about fucking her, that wasn’t as wrong, right?
No, I was fucked, and I knew it.
I never should have thought about her in that way for more than one reason. I had a mountain of reasons, but I didn’t give a shit. Thinking of fucking Sasha did something to me. It made me feel alive, and that was something I hadn’t felt in years. I was overwhelmed by it. I was drunk off it. And as long as I kept it in my head, I wasn’t breaking any rules. I just hoped it would be enough, even as I already knew it never would be. I wanted to feel her tight pussy wrapped around me. I wanted to hear her moans and whimpers and pleas when I rocked inside her. I wanted to listen to her scream my name as I made her comeall over my dick. Just the mental image was already pushing me over the edge.
My orgasm unraveled. Once tight and coiled, suddenly I let loose. My orgasm raced throughout every inch of my body and felt like I was on fire.
